I'll Be Your Eyes
by JustaTadStrange
Summary: What if Roy Mustang never regained his sight at the end of FMA Brotherhood? (Re-upload from AO3, same username!) Inspired by an idea a friend and I shared. (Hers is a oneshot but I might extend mine in the future) HERE'S HER FANFIC! FOLLOW HER! /s/12115200/1/The-Karma-He-Could-Live-With


Everything in Roy Mustang's life was now entirely black.

The world felt like an abyss; his grasp on reality so loose that he could fall into it at any moment. Every time he would try to discern what he was feeling, the overwhelming void of what seemed like nothing at all washed over him. The constant confusion brought on by the loss of a major sense often brought the stone-hearted colonel to tears, and the blonde-haired lieutenant to his hospital room. Mustang would try to distinguish her features as she spoke comforting words to him, but the closest thing would be what felt like splotches of unfocused light, dancing around in his mind. He had told the finest doctors at Central about this, in the hopes that somehow, his stubborn body was fighting the blindness. Aside from the momentary luxury of Riza's company, everything he could _see_ was black. This statement would have been absolutely ridiculous, relying on the unsound proof that the blind have any perception of color or shape; however, Roy Mustang was not always blind.

He could still remember the overwhelming agony of when he had encountered the Truth. He could still feel the sting of Wrath's swords dig into his palms when he moved his fingers. He could hear what Selim and Bradley had told him in their smirking voices.

Now he was stuck in Central's best hospital facility, seeing only dashes of color and light, until the doctors would finally realize that it is impossible to cheat the Truth. Not without the stone.

"Hello, Colonel," the familiar voice of Riza Hawkeye spoke sternly, though he could feel something else in her voice. _Disgust, perhaps?_ No, it felt warm-as warm as it could from Hawkeye.

"Lieutenant," Mustang nodded, as she closed the door behind her. "Since I can't _see_ you, why don't you fill me in on what you're wearing this fine evening?" The smirk was audible in his voice. "A _miniskirt,_ perhaps?"

"You've caught me, sir." Riza gave a smirk of her own, crossing her arms over her chest. "Believe it or not, the uniform actually changed the day you lost your eyesight. It's a shame; you've missed out on all of the scantily-clad young women roaming around Central."

"Funny," The colonel muttered, then swallowed. "So tell me, Lieutenant, to what do I owe the pleasure today? I don't believe I've had an anxiety attack or mental breakdown within the last 24 hours."

 _That's a new record._ "I don't understand why I can't just come and check on you, sir." She asked in exasperated tone, walking closer to him. "Does there always have to be an ulterior motive to my visits?"

"I know you." Roy said, simply put. _Riza wasn't particularly adept at social activities._

"Has it ever crossed your mind that I care about your wellbeing, sir?" She responded, curtly. Mustang raised an eyebrow.

"That sounded awfully antagonistic." He noted. "And patronizing. In fact, aren't I your superior officer, Lieutenant?" He said it flippantly, though his tone came across as terribly sardonic.

Roy didn't need to be able to see to know that his inferior wasn't taking the joke well. Usually, the woman had an extraordinarily dry sense of humor, one that he could get behind. He sighed, then continued. "Look, Riza. I don't want to be a burden to you, or anyone. I'm not just useless when wet anymore, and it seems as though all I'm good for is giving you hell. You shouldn't have to waste your time like this."

Riza smiled, making her way to sit on the foot of his bed. "Has it ever crossed your mind that I like coming here, sir?"

"I think you view it as your duty." Mustang admitted. "We'll add babysitting your superior to your job description." Hawkeye smirked, shaking her head.

"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" Riza was happy to change the subject, even though it was to something somehow more disquieting.

"I'm alright, except for the fact that I need to get out of this damn facility. But something tells me that won't be happening for a while." The blonde-haired woman shook her head.

"I'm afraid not, sir." She said, walking to the foot of his bed. Mustang sighed, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "However, I've been working with the hospital on getting you relocated." Roy's eyes widened; his posture straightened.

"You mean out of Central?" Riza nodded, but soon realized he couldn't see her gesture.

"Yes." She replied, the same warmness in her voice. "Sadly, you'd be taken from the action, and brought to Risembool. You'd live a quiet, countryside life." The Lieutenant offered a sad smile, one that Mustang didn't need to see to understand. "You'd be administered one of Central's finest seeing eye-dogs. He'd be strong, well-trained, and loyal to you. You can start again, sir. With your life."

The colonel said nothing, but her words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"What's the matter?" Riza sakes, placing her hands on her hips. "I thought you _loved dogs."_

Ignoring the woman's attempt at a joke, Mustang sighed. "What about you, Lieutenant?"

A small smile graced Hawkeye's lips. "I'll go where you go, sir."


End file.
